


The Case of the Masked Swordsman

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1880s america, Blowjobs, M/M, Multi, Twincest, historical!AU, minor michael/anna, zorro!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: There’s a strange, masked swordsman acting as a vigilante in Richmond. The man fights the prevalent corruption in local mining towns and is suspected of helping men escape their indentured servitude for new lives. In all honesty, Dean admires the man’s efforts, but he’s been tasked with investigating the claims and bringing the masked man to justice.





	The Case of the Masked Swordsman

**Author's Note:**

> This is my May entry for the [SPN Rare Pair Creations Challenge](http://rareshipcreationschallenge.tumblr.com/). The theme was "colors" and my prompt was "Celestial Blue." For a visual reference of the color, [click here](http://www.colorhexa.com/4997d0). I don't know if I did the greatest job incorporating this prompt into it, but hopefully it's okay :)
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [blue-reveries](http://blue-reveries.tumblr.com) for giving me this idea in the first place. Once it was in my head, my imagination kind of ran away with it. I'd been struggling with my initial ideas for this prompt and nothing really worked for me, so I very much appreciate the plot bunny. Keep in mind, I'm not a huge expert on this time period (read: I know nothing). This story could have easily been twice as long, but I reined myself in because I have some other challenge fics I need to work on. ~~Also I wrote this in like three days and didn't edit it so there are probably a bunch of errors I'm sorry.~~
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com) to talk about dcj :)

Dean only became an inspector for the intrigue. He was bored of managing estates and attending parties where he had to pretend to know everyone or, worse, that he _liked_ their company. Sam was more cut out for that anyway, so when his uncle Bobby offered him a job as an inspector, Dean leapt at the chance. Granted, not every case was thrilling, but there were murders and robberies and cases of stolen identity that fascinated him to no end.

While Sam hosted gallas and attended charity events in Washington, D.C., Dean was able to travel around the country and be free of those societal obligations their father had tried to shackle him with. His life wasn’t glamorous by any means, but it was his own. He’d rather do the paperwork necessary for his regular caseload than deal with any of the monotony that came with being a land owning member of the local gentry.

His current assignment was a doozy, though. It far outstripped any of the more interesting cases he’d had so far, including the one where his associate Crowley hired him to find dirt on his competitor Abaddon’s illicit business deals. Instead of business owners stabbing each other in the back through clandestine means, this was a whole other level of sabotage.

Mining towns were shitholes. They lured hard-working men in with the promise of honest pay for honest work, and then took complete advantage of them. The mining companies owned _everything_ , from the stores to the housing to the mines themselves. They controlled the wages and the prices for everything. Soon, if they went unchecked, the companies owned the men who worked for them as well. Without realizing it, the men racked up huge debts simply trying to pay for a place to stay, for the clothes on their backs, for food for their families. It was a vicious cycle, and Dean despised it.

Men and women had fought against that type of establishment, and few had succeeded. The bureaucracy inherent to the system made it nearly impossible to undo the damage they were able to cause once they’d gotten their hooks into people. It was a constant struggle, one that had few successes.

At least, normally there weren’t many. Dean was now staring down at a file that suggested _someone_ was doing it. Mining towns were shutting down one by one around Richmond, and they were all credited to one man. A strange, masked swordsman was acting as a vigilante. The man fought the corruption, sabotaged the dangerous mines so that they collapsed while no one was working, and was credited with helping men escape their indentured servitude.

In all honesty, Dean admired the man’s work. His means were unconventional at best, but there was no arguing with the results. At best they skirted the letter of the law, but there was evidence suggesting he’d outright broken it. That was where Dean came in. The mining company, Roman Enterprises, had reached out for help in finding the masked man and bringing him to justice.

“Well, this’ll be fun,” Dean mused aloud as he stared at the grainy photo of the man. He wore all black, a mask obscuring most of his face and head. He was brandishing a sword (an honest to god _sword_! Dean only ever saw those at those snooty fencing clubs Sam brought him to) and clearly had a gun holstered as well.

Even if he never caught the man, Dean knew he’d enjoy the hunt. He always did, and this one might actually be a challenge.

Excited more than he wanted to admit, Dean went to back.

\- - - -

There’d been a whole lot of haggling before Dean actually set off for Virginia. There were the details of his travel expenses and accommodations once he arrived, never mind the actual fee for hiring him, and Roman dug his heels in on every point. If Dean weren’t so damn curious about the masked man, he’d have told Roman exactly where he could shove it and given up the case altogether.

Luckily, they worked it out. One of Roman’s associates in the area offered to help with the investigation. While Dean was in Richmond, he’d be staying with Castiel Novak on his estate. The few telegraphs and letters they’d shared made it abundantly clear that Castiel would be far better company than Roman, so Dean was more than happy to work with him instead.

When his train arrived in Richmond, he took his time collecting his things. He needed it just to collect himself. Roman might be in a rush to deal with this masked menace, but Dean wasn’t. The trip wasn’t very long but it had still taxed his nerves. He _hated_ trains, the mechanical monsters, and was still in a mood about not being able to ride his horse down from DC. The train was the one concession he’d made that he was still unhappy about, but there was no use in being upset about it now.

Once he was confident that he no longer looked as out of sorts as he’d felt since the train left the station, Dean stepped onto the platform. Almost immediately he was taken aback by the handsome man waiting for him, holding a sign that read _Inspector Winchester_ in a neat script. As Dean stepped closer with his suitcase in tow, he realized the man wasn’t merely handsome, he was _stunning_.

Dark hair perfectly coiffed, a sharp suit complete with polished pocket-watch and freshly shined shoes, and devastatingly gorgeous blue eyes. God, Dean could picture losing himself in those beautiful blue eyes. He almost wished he were a painter so he could capture the galaxies held in those blue orbs.

 _Way to wax poetic on a man you haven’t technically even met yet,_ he scolded himself. _And you’re **working** with him. Don’t be inappropriate, no matter how attractive he is. _

Noticing Dean heading straight for him, the man holding the sign held out his hand. “You must be Inspector Winchester. I’m Castiel Novak.”

“You can call me Dean,” he said with a friendly smile as he accepted the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Castiel looked him over curiously. “And you can call me Mr. Novak.”

Dean couldn’t help it, he snorted at the unnecessary formality. If this was the tone Novak wanted to set, then by all means Dean would play along. Even if he thought it was ridiculous to be sharing a house with someone he didn’t call by his first name.

“Sure thing, Mr. Novak.”

“Jimmy, take the Inspector’s bag and bring the carriage around. We’ll be heading back to the estate immediately.” Then he turned to Dean. “Unless there’s anything you’d like to see in town first, Mr. Winchester?”

The manservant, whom Dean hadn’t even _noticed_ before, stepped forward and took Dean’s bags. He was about as tall as Casti— _Mr. Novak_ , nearly as tan too, though with wildier hair, a long scar ran down his cheek, and had a portly build. Thick glasses with tinted lenses obscured his eyes, though Dean did catch a glimpse of long lashes. There was something _off_ about the man, but for the life of him Dean couldn’t place what it was.

Dean startled slightly, having been too preoccupied with the manservant to really be listening. He blushed, suddenly aware that he’d been caught staring and feeling abominably rude for it. The manservant’s appearance, strange as it was, had probably earned him plenty of pitying looks and harsh words, and Dean was embarrassed to have briefly contributed to it. In the future, he’d be sure to be better behaved and give the man his space.

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s fine. Though if you wouldn’t mind, we should probably discuss this case today.”

“Of course.”

Jimmy lead the way with Novak and Dean following closely behind. It only took a few minutes for Jimmy to secure Dean’s bag, then they were off through the crowded Richmond streets. Novak made a few comments about the buildings as they headed out of the city, then told him the history of the area until they were pulling off the main road and heading towards a large mansion.

“I inherited the place from an uncle,” Novak said as they hopped out of the carriage one after the other. “Never met him, but he left me everything. The house, the land, his business…”

“Hmmm,” Dean said noncommittally as they walked up the steps together. “Was his business in mining? That how you ended up working with Roman?”

“No.” Novak had a pinched expression, suggesting he disliked Roman as much as Dean did, but he didn’t comment on the man himself. “My uncle was a lawyer and an accountant. He built up this estate helping the rich become richer. I’m no lawyer, but I’m skilled enough at arithmetic to do the accounting. I also lease some of my land to Roman for mining. Between those two ventures, we have certain mutual interests.”

“So Roman runs a mine on your land?”

“For the time being, yes. I keep my eye on it to make sure it’s run _appropriately_ , and Roman doesn’t much care for my meddling. If he had the money, and if I were even willing to sell, I’m sure he’d buy it from me.”

“... You both know you don’t much care for each other, yet you’re still partners?”

Novak led the way from the foyer to an office on the main floor. “For the moment. If I can find a better way, I’ll take it.” He took a seat at his desk and gestured for Dean to sit across from him.

“It sounds like you’re more on this vigilante’s side than you are Roman’s,” Dean joked as he sat in the leather chair. It was stiff and overly firm, much like its owner, and Dean struggled to find a comfortable position.

“Hardly,” Novak said wryly. Jimmy appeared and poured them each a tumbler of scotch before disappearing again. Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to get used to that. “I don’t like Roman’s business tactics, but I don’t care for lawbreakers. Thus my desire to help you with this case. The Archangel is bad for business, whether it be my holdings, Roman’s, or simply by encouraging others to take his mantle and go outside the bounds of the law.”

Dean swirled his whiskey a moment, admiring the color, before taking a sip. Not bad, though not his preferred drink. “This masked man—the Archangel?—he really a problem? I mean aside from the legal side of things, is he really more than an annoyance?”

“Roman thinks so. Have you read the file he sent?” Dean nodded, so Novak continued. “It’s quite an impressive amount of damage done. That’s of course assuming everything Roman attributes to the Archangel is actually his work. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it was just bad luck, but if there’s already a convenient scapegoat available…” Novak shrugged. “I’m sure Roman’s already hired some men to try and take care of things, but that obviously hasn’t worked, so now there’s you.”

“So basically I’m a last resort?” Dean laughed and finished up his scotch. “Can’t tell if I’m flattered or insulted.”

“With Roman, it’s usually safe to feel both.”

\- - - -

The next few days were him settling in and learning more about the evidence gathered against the Archangel. Novak showed him around the mine on his land, which was actually not as bad as Dean had feared. Everyone seemed happy and the equipment seemed in good working order. It was more than could be said for other, more notorious mines Dean had read about, and it affirmed Dean’s instincts that Novak was a good man.

But as engaging as his research was, Dean found his host more and more distracting.

Novak was an enigma. There were moments when he was sullen and formal, where a smile was a hard-earned victory that delighted Dean to no end, and then there were moments when he was lively and vibrant. Jokes came easily and he was openly affectionate with his staff and even to an extent with Dean himself. It was like night and day, a veritable Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Dean almost felt compelled to document the severe changes in temperament for the amusement of trying to find a pattern.

The only constant was the manservant Jimmy casting disapproving looks. If Novak was too perfunctory in his routine, Jimmy glared at him. If Novak was too friendly, Jimmy glared at him. Dean thought there was no pleasing the near silent manservant, but Novak seemed more amused than annoyed by it so who was Dean to judge.

Nearly a week later, Roman finally answered Dean’s requests for a meeting in person. The documentation seemed to be all there, all of it building up a pretty convincing case against this masked Archangel fellow, so Dean wasn’t sure what he was supposed to _do_ with the information. What was Roman’s endgame here?

Dean went to Roman’s offices in Richmond, escorted by Novak (who didn’t seem particularly thrilled to have to visit his partner). Novak was in one of his more talkative moods and delighted to tell Dean the gossip about all the wealthy families living in Richmond. It was meaningless but pleasant; Dean loved the sound of Novak’s voice, deep and resonating within the carriage.

If Dean and Novak got along well, it was in direct contrast to how little Dean cared for Richard Roman. Five minutes into their meeting and Dean’s skin was crawling with the desire to punch the man. Roman was all smiles and good manners, but a pompous ass underneath. At least he was paying well.

“So,” Dean interrupted before Roman could get too off topic bragging about his most recent acquisitions and his annoyance that the Archangel was interfering once again. “How exactly do you envision my role in this?”

Roman looked at him like he was an idiot. “Capture or otherwise permanently stop this masked menace from disrupting my business. Do it by whatever means necessary, I don’t care what it takes. I want this situation handled.”

“By whatever means necessary,” Dean repeated slowly. “Within the bounds of the law, of course.”

“Mr. Winchester, I _am_ the law at those mines—”

“Not at Pontiac Mine you aren’t,” Novak said. He smiled at Roman as if it were a friendly reminder that he was merely _leasing_ Novak’s land, but Dean (and undoubtedly Roman as well) saw the threat behind it.

“ _Fine,_ ” Roman conceded. “But everywhere else I am. This man is costing me thousands and I’ll pay thousands to stop him.”

Dean thought it was ridiculous that Roman wanted him to break the law to _stop_ the law from being broken (isn’t that what the Archangel was doing?), but it wasn’t worth arguing the hypocrisy of Roman’s demands. They hammered out a few more details, mostly the logistics of visiting a few of the local mines, and then Dean and Novak were off again.

Settled once more in the carriage, Dean let his head fall back against the seat and sighed heavily. What a mess.

“So what do you plan to do about the Archangel?” Novak asked as the carriage swayed into motion.

“Find out who he is and arrest him. Seems the only way to keep him safe from whatever Roman might do if he gets his hands on him.”

Novak seemed genuinely surprised by that answer. “You mean to protect him?”

“If I can,” Dean answered honestly. “From what I can tell, he’s doing good. The problem’s in his methods, it’s getting him into trouble. I’d be cheering the guy on if I weren’t getting paid to do the opposite, but it’s bad business to give up a case without even trying to solve it and even _worse_ business to pick and choose which lawbreakers to let go.”

Novak opened his mouth to say more, but then gunshots sounded in the street.

“What the hell—” Dean pressed against the window to try and get a better look at what was happening. He caught sight of a horse galloping towards them, a man with mask pressed down and urging the horse faster as they were pursued by two men shouting and shooting. It was chaos, everyone struggling to get out of the way and others shouting in excitement that it was the Archangel.

The horses thundered closer, Novak struggling to get a glimpse as well. Dean caught a pleased smile on the other man’s face but didn’t focus on it. There wasn’t much to see in the seconds it took for them to run by, but the blur was enough for Dean to know he’d seen the Archangel for the first time.

“We have to follow him—” Dean banged on the top of the carriage. “We’ve got to—”

“I know you’re eager to end your business here,” Novak said calmly as he took his seat and straightened his vest. “But we’re in a carriage with two horses that can barely manage to get me in and out of town without getting winded. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“Dammit!” he cursed and punched the wall of the carriage in frustration. Like it or not, Dean had to let it go. He’d seen the poor horses and knew Novak wasn’t exaggerating. Never mind they were technically still within the city limits; all the traffic and narrow streets would make their carriage a liability and the Archangel’s nimble horse an asset they couldn’t match.

As soon as they arrived back at the estate, Novak sent a boy on one of the faster horses to go find out what the Archangel had done this time. Dean made sure to explain exactly what type of information would be most helpful. It took longer than he’d like, but there was little point in rushing. Dusk was settling in and it’d be long after dark by the time the boy returned; no matter what, he’d have to wait until tomorrow to act.

“It’s alright, Inspector.” Novak placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder as they entered his office. Dean tried not to shiver at the contact. “You’ll get your chance.”

He grunted a noncommittal answer.

They’d barely sat down when Jimmy appeared with drinks: a scotch for Novak and a whiskey for Dean. He’d obviously noticed Dean’s ambivalence towards the scotch and Dean was glad for it. The whiskey was quite good, though he hoped Novak hadn’t put himself out and purchased it for him.

“Too bad you didn’t come with us today,” Novak said to Jimmy, a huge grin on his face. “You missed a chance to see the Archangel in action.”

Jimmy shrugged, clearly not interested.

“It was rather impressive,” Novak continued. “Wasn’t it, Inspector?”

“Uh…” Dean felt out of place joining in on the teasing and floundered to find something to say. “It was… I mean I guess…”

“See, the Inspector agrees. _Very_ impressive.”

With that oh so familiar look of disapproval, Jimmy rolled his eyes and exited to fetch their dinner.

Dean couldn’t figure out _what_ he was missing—there was clearly _something_ implied by Novak’s tone, but _what_ it was escaped him—so instead he focused on the maps Novak offered him of the nearby mines. So far he’d only seen Pontiac mine; tomorrow he’d start visiting the ones run solely by Roman Enterprises.

\- - - -  

Dean felt it was necessary to familiarize himself with the area more, see if there were any areas that might make a good hideout for the Archangel, so Dean stayed up well into the night. Novak had an extensive library and had already procured relevant books, newspaper clippings, and maps to help Dean’s investigation. Dean might’ve stayed up all night if it weren’t for his candle burning out and the growing discomfort in his neck.

Rubbing at his eyes and stretching out his back.

The house was normally dead quiet at night. The staff didn’t live at the main house but rather a smaller one closer to the main road. It was just Dean and Novak, and Novak never stayed up late. He retired to bed soon after the servants left for the night.

All of this led to Dean’s total surprise to hear footsteps as he went to his own room for the night. He assumed it was Novak—who else could it be?—and curiosity had him following the sound. If Novak was unable to sleep, perhaps Dean could offer himself as a conversation partner. The idea of a late night chat with his host brought a smile to Dean’s face.

He turned the corner leading to Novak’s room and stopped short. There, at the end of the hallway, were Jimmy and Novak. Novak was pressed against his bedroom door and Jimmy was ravishing his mouth in a desperate kiss. Novak whimpered and chased his lips when Jimmy tried to pull away.

Dean had been with his share of men (perhaps more than his fair share, given the difficulties of such liaisons), but he’d never in his life had the chance to see two men kissing. It was beautiful and wonderfully erotic. And yes, there was a flash of jealousy that Dean would have to deal with later, likely in his bed with nothing but his hand for company, but that was _his_ problem. H

Not wanting to disturb their stolen moment, Dean moved to slip away unnoticed. As soon as he shifted his weight, the floorboards creaked and both Novak and Jimmy turned their attention to him. Dean’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. Glad for the darkness, he waved shyly and quickly darted to his room before things could become awkward.

Alone in his room, Dean spent far too much time imagining that kiss and what the two men might be doing even then behind closed doors.

\- - - -

At breakfast the next morning, Dean asked for cup after cup of coffee. He’d not gotten nearly enough sleep as he should’ve, and he was paying for it now. A headache due to fatigue was threatened, but Dean did his best to ignore it.

“Good morning,” Novak said as he entered the small dining room. While he usually woke up well before Dean, today he hadn’t made an appearance. Dean had already given up hope of seeing him

“Morning,” Dean answered, watching carefully as Novak took a seat and started spreading jam over some slices of toast.

Just when Dean thought they were going to ignore the incident the previous night, Novak looked Dean square in the eye and asked, “Does it bother you that I have relations with my manservant?”

He’d expected Novak to avoid the topic altogether, or offer some nonsensical explanation that Dean hadn’t understood what he’d seen. Instead here he was, openly admitting it. Dean would have perfectly content to accept whatever excuse Novak offered, and so Novak’s bluntness encouraged Dean to answer in kind.

“Not particularly. Should it?”

Novak eyed him warily. “Most people don’t take too kindly to men who prefer the company of other men.”

“Oh, right.” It wasn’t that he’d forgotten (how could he?), but Dean hasn’t had to deal with that sort of maliciousness in years. Not since he got his own townhouse in the city and neighbors who had their own secrets that they didn’t want the _inspector_ to look too closely at. If Dean brought men home, men who stayed a few nights before leaving, no one cared any more than when he brought women home.

“I know it upsets a great many people when men prefer the company of other men, but it doesn’t bother me.” Dean swallowed, wondering if he should go on. Novak seemed profoundly uncomfortable, so Dean decided to offer a bit more, just a reassurance that Dean was genuine. “I am _particularly_ not bothered by men with such an inclination since I _share_ that inclination. Who am I to judge anyone for their desires?”

The second Novak understood his meaning, he looked bewildered and then covered it up with a soft smile. “Is that so?”

Dean shrugged. “No need to dwell on it, but yes. I’m not picky about the company I keep, be they men or women. There’s appeal in both, and I can hardly fault someone for seeing that appeal when I would not deny it of myself.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you Inspector?”

“I try.”

\- - - -

Things didn’t change much after that. Dean and Novak continued their friendly working relationship (including Novak’s bizarre mood changes that Dean was finding more and more endearing), visiting mines in the area. Novak was a spectacular guide, either providing invaluable information on the locales or charming the workers into providing insight. Most of what they heard was gratitude for what the Archangel was trying to accomplish.

The only minor difference was at night. Jimmy no longer made a show of disappearing with the other servants. No matter how early or late Dean went to sleep, he almost always managed to catch a glimpse of Jimmy sneaking into or out of Novak’s bedroom. Sometimes there was a tender embrace or a hungry kiss, others it was Novak hurriedly pulling Jimmy inside and immediately closing the door behind them.

No matter what he saw, it always ended with Dean in bed replaying the scene over and over and imagining what came next...

\- - - -

“This is frustrating,” Dean groaned as he looked over the records in front of him. He was at the public records hall in Richmond, Novak at his side.

“I’d imagine so. If it were easy, I’m sure the local authorities could have handled it.”

“Mmm.” Dean flipped through some more papers.

“What are you looking for? Perhaps I could help.”

“I’m looking for mining accidents or other noteworthy incidents caused by Roman’s mining towns.”

“Why?”

“I’m looking for a man with a grudge. Someone who lost friends in a cave-in or family left to starve from predatory, mine-owned businesses.”

It was quiet for a moment before Novak chuckled slightly. “You think the Archangel is a former miner?”

He raised an eyebrow and finally looked up to meet Novak’s eye. “Of course I do. Who else would have the motivation?”

“He uses a sword,” Novak answered, as though that meant anything.

“So?” Dean frowned. “Wait, are you saying I should be talking to blacksmiths in Richmond? Maybe he _is_ a blacksmith—”

“No, that’s not at all what I’m saying.” Novak seemed amused by Dean’s confusion. “I’m saying it’ll be a man of means.”

“How do you figure? He _targets_ people of means—”

“He has the time to invest in this mission of his,” Novak explained patiently. “He has the means to not only possess a sword but to know how to use it. I’m sure a man of your not meager income is aware of the costs involved in studying fencing.”

“So we’ve got ourselves a Robin Hood? Taking from the rich to give to the poor, except _he’s_ one of the rich? I don’t get it. Why not use his wealth to solve these problems instead of put on a mask and risk getting killed?”

“I can’t really speak to risking one’s life like that, but I do know from my own experience that money doesn’t do as much as you’d think. I run my own charities and participate in others, but there’s only so much one man with one fortune can do. Even two men would be hard pressed to make a difference through legitimate means, even should they have the wealth to finance it. Maybe he simply got tired of standing by and doing nothing.”

“Huh. Think you’re onto something,” Dean said.

“You sure?

“I got a hunch.”

After that, Dean changed tactics. He ignored his previous research and refocused his search. If there was a connection between Roman’s acquisitions, the comings and goings of other wealthy socialites in the area, and the dates of the first few appearances of the Archangel, Dean would find it.

\- - - -

A night or two after Dean’s revelation (in no small part due to Novak’s suggestion), he found himself in Novak’s study with his host pouring him a third glass of whiskey. They’d been brainstorming about the Archangel, but that had ended hours ago. The conversation had long ago shifted to other, more relaxed topics.

Dean was in the middle of recounting his earliest childhood memories when Novak shifted closer to him on the chaise. He fumbled for his next few words but continued on with his story. Next Novak’s hand ended up on Dean’s thigh and he gently started stroking up and down along the seam of his pants. There was no way Dean could ignore that.

“Mr. Novak…” he breathed out, then hissed as Novak pinched him gently. “What about your manservant?”

Leaning in to ghost kisses along his neckline, Novak whispered in his ear: “He’s in town visiting family for the night. He won’t disturb us.”

“And he won’t be jealous?”

“He knows I’m interested in you.”

“Does he?”

“Mmmhmm.” Novak was sucking on Dean’s earlobe, his hand having moved up to palm at Dean’s growing erection. “Come upstairs with me. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Dean couldn’t deny that he was tempted. _Very_ tempted, he amended as Novak forced a groan from him. Novak was an attractive man and Dean truly enjoyed his company. For some time he’s longed to be in Jimmy’s place, to be as intimate with Novak at least once—

“Yes,” Dean whispered. “Yes, let’s go.”

Just like out of the bedchambers, Novak was different from night to night. That first night he was domineering and demanding, taking Dean to the edge over and over again but never letting him fall into bliss until _he_ was ready. Some nights, Novak was needy and submissive, putty in Dean’s hands to do with as he would. Dean never knew what he was going to get, but he found he liked them both.

“Don’t you miss Jimmy?” If he weren’t so damn tired, Dean wouldn’t have said it, but his sleep-rattled mind was too curious to keep quiet.

Novak’s hand paused for a moment before he finished cleaning them up. “Some nights.”

“You should invite him up some time.”

“Are you getting tired of our affair?”

“Not at all.” Dean yawned sleepily and rolled onto his stomach. “But if you miss him, you shouldn’t deprive yourself on my account.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll watch.”

There was a stunned silence, and Dean smiled to himself. He loved being able to do that to Novak, who always had an answer to everything. “Told you,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep. “I don’t judge…”

Dean wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed or relieved that the topic was never brought up again. If Novak or Jimmy were interested, Dean had shown his willingness (and God was he willing; he still thought about those stolen kisses he’d witnessed, and it drove him wild to think of seeing them do more).

Perhaps it was better they said nothing. Dean very much enjoyed what he and Novak had, and he didn’t want to risk complicating things by asking for more.

\- - - -

It was overly sentimental of him, but Dean loved staring into Novak’s eyes during sex. It was the closest they ever were, never mind that Dean knew better than to openly admire another man during the day. So he settled for dim lantern light or the moonlight trickling in through the window. They were gorgeous eyes, ethereal, and one too many times Novak caught Dean losing himself in their endless depths.

“What are you looking at?”

They were lying on the bed and facing each other, sweaty and sated but not yet tired. And while Novak idly ran his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck, Dean barely even dared to blink lest he lose a second of looking into Novak’s eyes.

“Your eyes,” he answered unashamedly. “I’ve loved the color since the moment I saw you on that train platform. I’ve never seen their like. Celestial blue, I think that’s the name of the color.”

“Celestial blue?”

Now Dean was embarrassed. “I… I saw the name at a paint shop. It was such a beautiful color, such a unique name. It stuck with me.”

Novak chuckled. “I like it. It’s a fitting name for the color. I’m named after an angel, you know.”

“Novak?”

“No. Castiel. It’s an angel’s name.”

“Oh.” Dean considered a moment. “Well, it fits. Don’t tell Roman, though.”

“Why not?”

“All this Archangel nonsense, he’ll think you’re a coconspirator for sure.”

Novak laughed. Honest to god laughed. Dean loved that sound, especially since today Novak had been in one of his more somber moods and yet _still_ Dean had earned that laugh.

It was in that moment that he knew he was absolutely, irrevocably in love with the man in front of him.

\- - - -

Dean’s chance to capture the Archangel came the next afternoon.

He and Novak had ridden out early in the day to visit as many mines as they could. There were only a few left that Dean hadn’t yet seen himself, and by midday they were at their third. It looked to be as unhelpful as his other visits, especially since the overseer was new and had only heard of the masked vigilante’s work through hearsay.

And then an explosion rocked half the site.

Heedless of Novak’s calls for him to be careful, Dean ran right into the thick of things. Even before the smoke had cleared, he heard the clang of metal on metal and gunshots firing.

By the time he arrived, the fighting was almost over. The Archangel was there, surrounded by three men. Two were unarmed and holding their injured hands. They had the look of hired thugs and Dean felt no pity for them, especially not after the reports he’d heard of how Roman’s men liked to keep control of people on their mining sites. If they’d attacked and gotten the guns sliced from their hands, they had nothing but their choice of profession to blame.

The third man still had his pistol, but his hands were shaking so badly every shot went wide. Finally the gun clicked empty and the Archangel came forward and butted him with the hilt of his sword. The man stumbled and fell to the ground with a dull _thud_. The other men ran away, abandoning their friend.

“Stop!” Dean yelled, aiming his own gun at the Archangel. He wasn’t some hired muscle who didn’t know how to handle himself. His aim was good, his stance solid, and he wouldn’t miss his mark.

The Archangel made eye contact with him, put his arms up as if in surrender, and then bolted towards the treelines.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed and followed after him. The man was fast and had a head start, but Dean never lost sight of him. As he reached the trees and started to untie his horse, Dean fired off a warning shot into the air.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” he warned, training the gun on the man’s back.

The cocky son of a bitch, he didn’t even flinch. He looked over his shoulder at Dean and gave him a very obvious once over. “No you won’t.” And then after having the gall to _wink_ at Dean, he mounted his horse.

Dean had every opportunity to shoot. He even had the time to aim for his arm or leg or even the damn horse if he so chose, but instead he watched the man ride off.

“Dammit!” Dean screamed and kicked uselessly at a rock. He’d had his chance and he’d let the bastard go, all because Dean didn’t want to _hurt_ him. A criminal!

He was moody for the rest of the day and not even Novak’s friendly smiles and sympathetic ear could coax him to talk about it. Instead he finished his interviews and headed back to the Novak estate, all while barely uttering five whole sentences to his companion.

Not that he needed to speak to show Novak his appreciation as the man closed the curtains to the carriage windows and slid in between his knees. Novak’s mouth was divine as he helped ease the tension Dean had been carrying with him since he’d let the Archangel escape.

The day might not have been a complete waste after all.

\- - - -

For possibly the first time since he’d arrived, Novak was unable to escort him into town. Not that Dean required his assistance at this point—he was more than familiar the city and the layout of the records offices and county library—but he found himself missing the company.

 _It’s for the best,_ he told himself. _This case won’t last forever. You’ll be back in D.C. inside of a month and then you’ll never see him again._

The idea hurt more than he wanted to admit.

His investigation proved particularly fruitful. Nothing about the Archangel, but he unearthed some dirt on Roman. The man had foolishly given Dean full access to his business records, likely thinking that as long as Dean was under his employ he wouldn’t act against Roman. Too bad for Roman that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There were ledgers and ledgers full of information proving that Roman’s company not only engaged in tax evasion but had illegally used government land. It wasn’t as intriguing as sabotage or masked vigilantes, but it _was_ against the law and _definitely_ would land Roman in jail once Dean contacted the proper authorities. While that didn’t directly solve the Archangel issue, Dean suspected that if the mines fell under proper management, that problem would solve itself.

It was too late to do anything tonight. Dean was also convinced Roman had men watching him, and if Dean were to rush off to the police after going through Roman’s business ledgers, he was pretty sure it would get him shot on the way there.

It’d just have to wait until the morning.

“Find anything useful?” Novak asked over dinner.

“Hmm?” Dean realized he’d been asked a question and quickly tried to figure out how to answer. “Oh. Uhm, nothing particularly useful, no.”

He’d decided not to tell Novak about what he’d found. There was the slight possibility that Novak was involved in Roman’s illegal dealings. His instincts told him to trust Novak, but Dean worried their relationship might be clouding his judgement on the matter. There was no harm in _not_ telling him, so he was determined to play it safe and not tip his hand.

“Are you sure? You seem… distant.”

“Just tired.”

It was clear Novak didn’t believe him, but oh well. Within a few days, it would all be out in the open. If Novak was innocent, then Dean could explain everything then. If he weren’t, at least Dean hadn’t interfered with Novak meeting justice.

\- - - -

Dean slipped out early the next morning, skipping breakfast and setting out alone on horseback. He first planned on notifying local authorities, then he could get in touch with his contacts in D.C. Since most of Roman’s crimes were Federal, they’d be the ones leading the investigation.

Only a few miles from the estate, Dean heard a horse charging up from behind at a gallop. He urged his own horse to the side of the road to make way. Instead of going around him, the rider ran so close that he clipped Dean and spooked his horse.

Thrown from his horse, Dean hit the mud and gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He’d landed on his arm, but a quick check of his body told him he wasn’t gravely injured. Standing on wobbly legs, Dean was ready to scream after the unknown horseman…

… only to realize it was the Archangel.

“I’m sorry about that,” the Archangel apologized as he dismounted. “I just want to talk—”

“Not interested.” Dean grabbed for the sword he’d brought with him. He’d only packed his father’s military saber on a whim. If he was chasing a masked swordsman of all things, it only seemed right to _bring_ a sword with him. It’d felt childish at the time, so he’d hidden it in the back of his suitcase to keep Sam from noticing it before he left and to keep from having to explain himself to Novak.

“Do you know how to use that?” the Archangel asked curiously.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Dean never claimed to be a good swordsman. He’d learned a bit of fencing at boarding school, but that’d been years ago. What he lacked in skill, he made up for in bold moves. He was scrappy, not afraid to take a risk for the chance at a good, clean hit. Even as he held his own, though, Dean had the feeling the Archangel was taking it easy on him.

“Okay,” Dean said. He was breathless and backed away, arms raised. “You still want to talk?”

“... Sure.”

They both stuck their swords in the ground. Dean nodded in thanks, taking a few calming breaths before lunging at the other man. He tackled the Archangel to the ground and almost had the upper hand until he rolled on top of Dean. They grappled with each other until somehow they ended up falling into a nearby ditch, because _of course_ they did. Dean had no damn luck at all, apparently.

Dean took the brunt of the fall, the Archangel landing on top of him heavily. He moved to push him off when he looked up and saw his eyes. _Really_ saw the Archangel’s eyes for the first time, up close and without anything to distract him.

Celestial blue.

Shock made him go limp. The Archangel looked worried as he scrambled to get off of Dean and then offer him a hand.

“Are you alright—?”

Dean took his hand, got to his feet, and then promptly shoved the Archangel against the side of the ditch. In one quick movement he ripped off the mask and saw the all too familiar face looking back at him.

“Castiel?”

“... Sort of?” he answered sheepishly.

“Fuck!” Dean pushed away, pacing back and forth across the narrow space of the ditch. He pulled at his hair, overcome with a flood of emotions he barely knew which way was up anymore. “I can’t believe this! I can’t—” He rounded on Novak and pointed at him accusingly. “I’m in love with you, you asshole! And you’ve been _lying_ to me this whole time!”

“I’m sorry I lied but—Wait, what did you say? You love me?”

“YES!” Dean shouted so loudly the whole forest went silent.

Unperturbed by Dean’s outburst, Novak carefully asked him: “... Every day?”

“Wh-what? What does that even—? _Yes_ , every day. I love you when you’re all prim and proper and only smile with your eyes and you tell me random facts about history or agriculture. And I love you when you smile those beautiful gummy smiles that light up the room and you can’t stop telling jokes and ‘accidentally’ brush your hand or shoulder against mine just because you can.

“Just like those nights where you beg for me, I love that as much as when you have _me_ begging. I love all of it, all the time. Admittedly, it’s strange that you’re these two extremes and it keeps me guessing _who_ I’m getting on any given day, but— _Why_ are you _laughing_?”

Dean was so affronted that Novak would actually _laugh_ during his love confession and more so that he didn’t seem to understand Dean was still pissed at him.

“I’m laughing because you’re perfect. And we love you, too.”

“Perfect?” Dean frowned. “Wait, _we_? Who’s we—?”

Novak surged forward and kissed him. Dean gasped, inadvertently giving Novak free reign of his mouth. His tongue slipped in, claiming and oh so wonderful. Despite himself, Dean felt his anger draining as he melted into the kiss.

Something heavy fell on their heads and they jumped apart. A rope slipped between them, followed by an all too familiar voice shouting: “You two done down there?”

It felt as though the ground had slipped out from under him. “Who?” Dean asked. “But… _how_ …?”

Novak handed him the rope and grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, you’re going to _love_ this.”

He let Dean climb up first, even helped hold the rope steady. A hand reached over the edge to help pull him up the last bit. When he’s finally back on his feet, Dean’s met by stunning blue eyes.

Celestial blue eyes.

 _The same_ celestial blue eyes he’d left in the ditch.

There was something wrong, something very very wrong. Dean wasn’t even sure he believed what he’d seen until the other Novak—the Archangel Novak?—appeared next to him. They were absolutely identical.

What.

The.

 _Hell_.

Was going on here?

Novak, or rather the _non_ -Archangel Novak, spoke first. “We’re twins.”

Finally finding his tongue, Dean snapped out: “No shit. And you…” He turned to the one he’d been fighting earlier. “You’re the Archangel?”

“We both are,” Archangel Novak said. “Today it’s me, but sometimes it’s him.”

Dean looked back and forth between them. Identical. If they we were wearing the same clothes, Dean wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

“Which… which one of you have I…?”

_Been living with?_

_Sleeping with?_

_Fallen **in love** with? _

“Both of us,” Archangel Novak said, not needing to hear the rest of the question. “I’m Jimmy, by the way.”

“... The _manservant_?”

“That’s just an act,” non-Archangel Novak—Castiel?—said. “Obviously.”

“We both play that role, too. We’ve both Castiel Novak, we’re both Jimmy, we’re both the Archangel. Makes it hard to figure out our secret if there’s more than one secret to figure out.”

Made sense, in a strange sort of way.

“I saw you two kissing,” Dean blurt out. As though that were in _any way_ the most pertinent piece of information right now.

Jimmy and Castiel shared a look, mirrored expressions of concern.

“... How did this happen?”

“Well,” Castiel said. “That’s a long story…”

\- - - -

_Michael Novak was a wealthy man with no wife but an empty bed he longed to fill. And so he did, again and again with servant after servant._

_One of those women, Anna Milton, died in labor with the man’s bastard twins. The boys, with not a cent to their name or any family in the world who would claim them, were sent to an orphanage. So many nights they were alone together in cold, damp rooms with no one but each other. As they grew older, they became more than brothers, seeking comfort wherever and however they could, even if it meant in each other’s arms._

_When they came of age, a blacksmith took them in. They became apprentices and learned metalworking. The man was a sword enthusiast. By no means a master swordsman, he liked to fiddle around with the few swords he made for himself. He taught Castiel and Jimmy what little he knew, and they started reading more about it on their own. They barely had time to practice, but it was a passion of theirs._

_They found out about the Novaks all at once. Michael Novak, their father, had died shortly after their mother. His wealth had been taken over by his brother Gabriel, who’d also met his untimely end. Gabriel had no children, and so he left everything to the twins. It didn’t matter that they were bastards, not when they were the only heirs left. In this one thing, apparently, blood was thicker than water._

_It took months to track them down, but their uncle’s lawyers had found them eventually. They inherited the land, the business holdings, and the Novak name. Honestly, though, they would’ve preferred the family, but they were willing to play the hand they’d been dealt. They splurged on schooling, learning less back-breaking trades and even dabbling in swordplay more. They took turns, one at school while the other was in Richmond managing the estate._

_Then there was Roman._

_The twins didn’t notice anything until they’d already leased him some land. Then the workers started complaining to them. The more they heard the less they liked it. They stopped it on their land, but it was **everywhere** Roman had gotten his hands on. It was impossible for them to ignore the injustices being done, not when they could do something about it. Nothing legitimate worked, all their efforts were brushed off or outright laughed at. _

_So they came up with a plan._

_No one in Richmond had ever seen the twins together. All their official documents were merely signed with the name “Novak” and the family seal stamped on for good measure. And certainly no one would care if another servant joined the staff. All it took was some creativity, some make-up and a commitment to the roles they were playing._

_And maybe a few good swords..._

\- - - -

They’d moved behind the trees, not visible to anyone from the road. Dean had found an old stump to sit on as he first listened and now tried to process everything the twins had told him. It was a lot to wrap his head around, and also a huge display of trust on their part. From what Dean gathered, he was the only one who knew their secret.

Secret **s**.

They’d laid themselves bare before him (though perhaps unintentionally in some regards), and it reminded Dean that he had a secret of his own. A minor one, in the grand scheme of things, but still one he’d kept from them.

“I can stop Roman.”

Jimmy and Cas blinked. “What?” they asked in unison.

God they were adorable.

Dean summarized what he’d found out the previous day. “That’s why I was heading to town, so I could talk to the authorities.”

“Oh.”

“Why, what did you think I was doing?”

“We thought you’d figured out a way to capture the Archangel and were going to have us arrested.”

“Oh.” Silence. “Did you really think I’d turn in the Archangel after I didn’t shoot you? Wait, which one of you _did_ I almost shoot?”

The twins smiled mischievously.

“... You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

“... I almost liked it better when there was one of you.”

“Do you mind that there are two of us?” Jimmy asked. “You said you loved us, but I understand you didn’t really know what you were admitting…”

Castiel gasped. “You love us?”

Dean thought about it. He really _hadn’t_ known what was involved in loving them, yet he’d fallen for them both all the same. He didn’t quite know which was which, not yet, but he’d certainly noticed a difference. It’d take him time to truly map out which parts were Castiel and which were Jimmy, but a foundation was already there. It was really more learning to put a name to the things he’d already noticed.

“Yes,” Dean said. “I love you. Both of you.”

“Even if we… love each other as well?”

Ah, so that was what they were worried about.

“I told you, I don’t judge.” Castiel relaxed minutely, but Jimmy was still tense. “I understand why you’d be… hesitant. But when I thought you weren’t brothers and I saw you two kissing… I was interested. I wanted more, I wanted to be a part of that. The fact that you’re twins, it doesn’t change that desire.”

Unbidden came the image of the twins in bed together, two sets of blue eyes and hands and mouths… Dean swallowed and shook his head to dispel the thought. Now wasn’t the time.

“If anything, it increases it,” Dean admitted.

Castiel took two strides over, climbed onto Dean’s lap, and kissed him. “I knew there was a reason we loved you.”

“You love me?” Dean teased, chasing Castiel’s lips. Castiel pulled away and instead he found a different pair of lips.

“We do.”

“Great.” Dean broke off their attempts for more kisses, knowing full well they’d get caught up in the moment if he let it happen. “Now let’s go into town and get Roman arrested.”

\- - - -

Prosecuting Roman turned out to be fairly easy. Once he was behind bars, his associates eagerly cooperated with the authorities. Apparently they only liked Roman for his money, and if that was gone, so was their support.

Dean left his job in D.C. and opened up his own investigation company in Richmond. He didn’t travel as much as he used to. Why head out looking for adventure and intrigue when he had everything he needed at home? He lived with the twins on their estate. For the sake of appearances, he’d purchased a townhouse in the city, but he only used it for work.

The twins were now officially the twins James and Castiel Novak. To avoid awkward questions, they’d needed to relocate all of their current staff who’d known “Jimmy” the manservant. They’d found them all decent if not better jobs and hired all new servants. None of them batted an eye at the few affectionate displays the twins allowed themselves in public, and they knew they’d hired the right people.

The Novaks also take over managing all the mines that had been confiscated from Roman Enterprises. They were still trying to fix all the damage Roman had caused, but they’d at least stopped the worst of it. People weren’t so far in debt they were basically owned by the mine and the safety conditions had improved dramatically. They were both confident they’d be able to sort everything out with time, and Dean firmly believed they could do it.

Occasionally, the Archangel would still make an appearance to rough up those who tried to rebuild what Roman had.

… And if Dean donned the mask once or twice, well, who would know?

 

* * *

 

 

**Bonus Scene 1:**

**Jimmy:** Well clearly there’s only one way to keep Dean from finding out our secret.

 **Cas:** Yes, obviously.

***at the same time***

**Jimmy:** We seduce him.

 **Cas:** We kill him.

 **Jimmy and Cas:** …….

 **Jimmy:** … WTF did you just say?

 **Cas:** Uh… I said whatever you said. The seduction thing. Yeah.

 **Jimmy:** *suspicious*

***later***

**Cas:** Good news! I slept with Dean.

 **Jimmy:** … WTF?! YOU slept with him? YOU wanted to kill him! How come YOU get to fuck him first?

 **Cas:** *shrugs* Your idea was more fun.

 

**Bonus Scene 2:**

**Cas:** It’s nice that we won’t have to keep wearing the mask anymore.

 **Jimmy:** Yep. Guess we can get rid of all the Archangel paraphernalia—

 **Dean: *running in from another room*** NOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 **Cas and Jimmy:** ………. da fuq?

 **Dean, blushing:** Can you keep the mask? And the outfit?

 **Cas and Jimmy:** …… Why?

 **Dean:** Because I was kinda hoping you guys would tie me down and slap me around while wearing the mask……

 **Jimmy:** ….. Why—?

 **Cas:** DON’T QUESTION THE MAN. HE’S TOLD US WHAT HE WANTS. *turning to Dean* Yes. That. That’s a thing we’re going to make happen.

 


End file.
